I’m 27 now. You don’t think I come crawling back to the city’s 97 degree embrace, battered, shattered from this journey? Long, thick black hair turned white from flying too close to the sun? How many times do you think I’ve gone out looking for myself in the orange hue of the streetlights, in the eyes of my sister, in the baby blue of the sky, trying again, again, again to find that place in me that is indestructible? I’m out looking for myself again tonight in Magic City. I’ll be home in the morning. See? XOXO